


A Second Chance

by Mir91



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Harley Quinn (Cartoon 2019), Harley Quinn (Comics)
Genre: 90'S, AU, Atlantic Canada, Eventual Smut, F/F, Family, Fluff and Angst, Newfoundland, Reporter Harley, Romance, Slow Burn Romance, Starting Over, Teacher Pam, fishing village
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:41:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28140105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mir91/pseuds/Mir91
Summary: After her husband kidnaps their daughter, sells her and flees with his mistress, a broken Harley tries to start anew far away in the oceanside community of her ancestors.There, she gets a second chance at a career, family and love.An AU inspired by Annie Proulx’s The Shipping News.
Relationships: Harley Quinn/Poison Ivy, Joker (DCU)/Harleen Quinzel, Pamela Isley & Harleen Quinzel, Pamela Isley/Harleen Quinzel
Comments: 16
Kudos: 33





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to my first fic written in earnest! It's a pretty obscure AU, especially for a Harlivy story but the idea wouldn't leave my head and I'm hoping it's everything you didn't know you needed haha. Happy reading, friends! xx

Harleen Quinzel had a knack for remembering faces. And names for that matter. She remembered people’s titles too. But she especially kept track of their demeanor when they walked up to her receptionist’s desk announcing their arrival. 

“Everyone’s got a story,” was what her boss and sales manager of The Jersey Tribune, Harvey Dent would say. That was his way of sidling up to local business owners and Tribune advertising clients, squeezing any dollar he could out of them, while giving an insultingly low share to his reporters and stowing the rest away for golf trips. 

It took a split second for Harley to note that on that particular day, Mr. Bosley looked angry.

“I have a 4 o’clock with Harv,” he mumbled through a stiff lip, slamming the Thursday classifieds on the mantle above Harley’s workspace. 

“Sure thing, Mr. Bosley. I’ll page him right now. Say, do ya think you’ll bring Judy along to the Christmas party next month? I was sure to send out invites to all our loyal clients,” Harley chirped, attempting to diffuse the sudden tension in the room.

“Not sure how long you’ll be keeping my business when you got my 88’ Plymouth ads running right next to Danforth’s Ford Contours,” the used car salesman didn’t even bother looking at her. 

Yeesh. Harley knew from experience not to press on. Nope, angry men did not like chatty women. When Jack came home late from work in the city, stepping into the house with steely eyes, Harley wouldn’t dare list off her day or tell him about the finger painting Lucy brought home from school. 

After Mr. Bosley stormed off to Harvey’s office, Harley sat at her desk, musing over the earful her boss was currently on the receiving end of. 

It wasn’t quite how she pictured her life at twenty-eight, but her job did give her a chance to study people. And studying people, or rather their behaviour, was what she always dreamed of. 

Harley was on her way to a promising career as a psychiatrist, that was until Jack came home one night with a split lip, his face black and blue all over. That night she discovered Jack gambled away the last of an inheritance her great aunt Maude left for her academic pursuits.

The clunking of the printing press came to a halt, signalling the end of the workday. Harley turned off the radio, grabbed her coat and made her way to her neighbour’s home to pick Lucy up for dinner.

\---

It was only six o’clock by the time Harley pulled up to her neighbour’s home but the winter months clouded the sky with darkness by the time it was five. 

A knock on the door summoned a surprised looking Barbara Gordon out of her home. 

“Hi Harley! What are you doing here? Did you not get Jack’s message?”

Harley pulled her coat tightly against her neck, “No, I haven’t heard from him all day. Where’s Lucy?”

“Jack called me this afternoon and said he was picking her up from school and taking her to McDonald’s for dinner. He told me you knew.” 

Harley knew no such thing. She shifted her eyes to her dark home and looked back at Barbara with a nervous smile, “Uhh right. He must've left a message on the answering machine at work while I was out running errands.”

Barbara nodded and smiled back while shutting her door. Suddenly feeling queasy, Harley bolted to her car and pulled into her adjacent driveway. She fumbled open the front door and called her parents. 

Next she tried Jack’s office, knowing everyone likely already called it a night. Sure enough, no one answered. 

Trying to calm down and telling herself it probably slipped Jack’s mind to let her know he’d be picking Lucy up from school, Harley tried to busy herself by preparing dinner.

A few hours later, flashing blue and red lights filtered through the living room drapes and the doorbell rang. Harley felt her heartbeat ringing in her ears, wondering what kind of mess Jack got himself into this time and where the hell was her daughter? 

Opening the door, she was met with the sight of two police officers. 

“Ma’am, are you Harleen Quinzel?” 

Harley nodded, her hands beginning to quiver.

“We found your husband and daughter.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harley learns what happened to Jack and Lucy. But the shattering news doesn't end there. She gets a visit from a surprise guest and the bearer of bad news offers Harley a proposal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We still have a little ways to go before we meet Pam. She might just happen to be Lucy's reclusive and mysterious school teacher. Pam and Lucy fluff ahead.

Harley’s ears rang. She was light-headed and on the verge of passing out. Still, she nodded along, signaling for the officers to continue.

The brawny man swallowed, “Mr. Napier and Ms. Alexis Kaye were pulled out of the East River.”

Alexis Kaye? Harley knew that name. She recognized the woman as Jack’s secretary.

“They didn’t make it, ma’am. I’m sorry.”

Tears welled up in Harley’s eyes and all she wanted to know was where her daughter was. Was she alive? Was she hurt? Traumatized? Conscious?

“And my daughter? Where’s Lucy?” she seethed, fingers gripping the side of the front door, knuckles paper white.

The cop took a deep breath, “She’s safe. She’s being examined at the hospital right now. We got a call about a suspected abduction in Gotham this afternoon. A Block Parent reported a girl screaming at a residence there. We got there within fifteen minutes and arrested her captors. She wasn’t hurt or touched.”

“W-what? H-how?” Harley’s head swam, not able to string the course of the afternoon’s events together.

“It’s looking like Mr. Napier sold your daughter. We found Craigslist clippings at the residence. Mr. Napier and Ms. Kaye had $1000 in cash on them when their bodies were pulled out of the river after their car crashed on the Brooklyn Bridge. This is all still under investigation, but initial reports show the amount of cash matches the same amount in the Craigslist ad.”

Harley was at a loss for words and the cop, along with his female partner, raised their eyebrows sympathetically. The woman finally spoke, “Ms. Quinzel, we can take you to the hospital and have a colleague drop you both off home once she’s discharged. I don’t think it’s safe for you to drive.”

She was right. Harley’s legs shook underneath her and the woman grabbed her arm, escorting her into the cruiser after Harley nodded her consent.

\---

“It’ll just be a moment until we process your information. She’s just on the other side of those doors and is still awake.”

The nurse’s eyes were kind and eased Harley’s impatience to get to her daughter. In the last half hour she learned Jack was cheating on her (although judging by all those times she’d find lipstick on his starched white shirts, she knew she’d been in denial over that for a while now) and that he sold off their child to traffickers.

Jack was never a hands-on father and she knew he dealt with some shady Gotham characters in the afterhours, but she was suddenly waking up to the fact that he was entirely a stranger. Truth is, their relationship was never sturdy. Jack was an Irish boy from a wealthy family with a good, white collar city job. And that was something that mattered to the Quinzels. Sure, Harley harboured a school girl love for him when they met in their teens, but after he ruined her chances of a medical career, Harley quietly started resenting him.

But she had to keep the facade of a perfect suburban family going for Lucy.

Lucy, who was her everything. She never wanted Lucy to live in a broken home. Harley would do anything for her little girl. The same little girl who was being ushered towards her by hospital staff.

“Oh, baby,” Harley sobbed into her daughter’s hair.

“Let me look at you. Are you okay? How do you feel? You’re safe now.” Harley gripped the girl’s shoulders then buried her into her chest.

“I’m okay, mommy. That lady gave me a lollipop.” Lucy’s eyes were sleepy but she was all smiles.

Did she forget? Harley wondered. How much would a five-year-old make sense of what just happened?

“Is daddy coming home tonight from his busy-ness trip?” Harley smoothed over Lucy’s blond hair away from her big blue eyes and took her little hand.

How would she protect her from this? How would she explain?

“Yeah, baby. He’s away tonight. Let’s go home, get you into a hot bath and in clean jammies. It’s late.”

Mother and daughter walked out of the sterile, white hospital walls and into the Jersey winter night hand-in-hand.

\---

Harley took the next few days off work to gather her bearings.

Constable Peter Neuuman called her the day before and confirmed her suspicions. Jack and Alexis were trying to flee the state together. It wasn’t clear where they were headed but extensive maps of Mexico were found in the drowned car’s glove compartment. The police investigation also revealed Jack filed for bankruptcy and was fired. There wasn’t a cent left to his name, or anything to Harley’s either, aside from some gold jewelry and a few thousand in cash she kept tucked away in a shoebox at the back of her closet. She’d have to sell the house. Screwing her eyes shut, Harley let out a guttural groan when she remembered Jack’s parents’ names were on the deed.

Meanwhile, her own parents were still not answering her calls. In the last few days the phone wouldn’t even ring. Which wasn't entirely uncharacteristic, they were becoming increasingly reclusive with age, stopped coming to church or family gatherings and it seemed they only held contact with her younger brother, Barry.

A knock on the front door broke the silence. Harley took a deep breath, dragging herself off the couch and smoothing out her high waisted corduroys. Too emotionally drained for guests, but feeling left all alone to deal with how her life turned upside down in a matter of days, Harley finally decided to answer whoever was on the other side of the door.

An older woman was in the doorway. She stood a few inches shorter than Harley and her face was stern. She nodded her greeting but didn’t smile.

“Harleen, are ya?” She spoke with a singsong accent. It sounded akin to an Irish twang, but when she uttered her next words, Harley knew it was from somewhere else.

Broken large eyes looked back at the woman, and Harley felt a little relief that someone knew who she was. Someone didn’t entirely forget she existed.

“Yeah, that’s me. Sorry, who are you?”

She cocked her head to the side, searching Harley’s face. “Lord, last I saw ya, you were a wee thing at yer grandfather’s wake. I’m yer great aunt, Dorothy. Folks usually just call me Dottie though.”

At a thorough glance, Dorothy did look a lot like her great aunt Maude on her father’s side. Harley wondered if she was tracing her family tree correctly. She wasn’t as familiar with her father’s side. Only her grandfather immigrated to the US from Atlantic Canada back in the fifties. Maybe that’s where that peculiar accent was from.

“Do you know Aunt Maude?”

The woman’s face finally pulled to one side in a tight smirk and her chin raised slightly, “She’s me sister. Granted, me half-sister. Maude had fifteen years on me.”

Harley offered a tired smile, “Pleasure to meet you.” Her arm was left extended, gripping the door and holding it ajar.  
The serious woman managed another smile and glanced at Harley’s arm that was blocking the entrance. “Say, uhh, can I come inside? There’s something I need to talk to ya about, Harleen.”

Harley’s eyebrows rose and she felt a pang of guilt for forgetting her manners, “R-right. Of course. I’m sorry. Come on in.” Her arm dropped from the door and pushed it further open, welcoming the Aunt inside.

The Aunt looked around her bungalow when she stepped inside, her gaze caught a photo of Lucy, Harley and Jack in the hallway. She didn’t raise her eyes from the photo when she said, “Do ya got a cup of tea? Nothing a good cup’a strong tea can’t fix, I tell ya.”

Can’t fix? Harley wondered what the woman was alluding to or if she always sounded so solemn and serious, “I think I got some Earl Grey?”

“That’ll do, dear.” The Aunt made her way to the couch in the adjacent living room. She sat in silence and waited until the tea was done steeping.

Harley came back with two China cups full of the streaming beverage. She handed the woman the saucer, who sat there with a proud straight posture and ankles crossed, tucked neatly underneath her.

It opposed Harley’s slumping shoulders and defeated posture when she sunk into the other loveseat, evading any kind of eye contact.

The Aunt placed her cup on the coffee table and inched forward, back still straight and hands crossed. “Harleen, there’s no easy way to say this, so I’ll just say it. Yer folks,” She paused,” they passed on Friday.”

Harley’s eyes shot to Dorothy and bugged out. She shook her head tightly, as if trying to clear it. “N-no, they didn’t. What?”

Dorothy leaned closer to Harley, tilting her head and searching her face, “Yer father listed me as his next of kin. Firefighters called me that morning saying the house blew up in smoke. They’re still investigatin’ of course, but it’s deliberate is what they’re sayin’. The house leveled and the insurance company isn’t paying anyone out. Those greedy bastards are deemin’ it suspicious.” The Aunt’s jaw clenched and her brow furrowed in anger.

A sob tore through Harley and shook her small frame. She buried her face in her hands, her head was still shaking in disbelief as she wondered when she could crawl out of this nightmarish rabbit hole her life was turning into. She felt a strong hand on her shoulder.

“There’s something else.” Another pause, “Yer father’s lawyer called me on Friday too and told me yer brother managed to swindle yer parents’ pension and savings to his account. There’s nothing left of yer inheritance.”

  
 _Of course there fucking wasn’t._ Anyone could tell Harley anything at this point and the growing numbness would swallow it, reducing it to nothing. Her mouth was still buried in her hands, and she asked in a pleading tone, “Can you stay for a few days? Just until things sort out. L-Lucy..I have to pick her up from school. I have to go to the police station. I have to..” Harley mumbled, barely coherent.

The Aunt nodded, and smoothed her hands along Harley’s back. “Yes, I’ll stay. I have a few business matters to sort out in the city anyway. But I do have a proposal, Harleen.”

Harley looked up at Dorothy questioningly and the Aunt continued, “Although yer a Yank now, you’ll always be a Quinzel. A Newfoundlander by blood. There’s good land out there. Good people. Folks who know yer name and a fresh start for you and yer little girl. It just so happens I’m closing up shop in Gotham. There’s nothing left here for me either and business is picking up up there. Our family house is still sturdy as ever up on Quinzel’s Point. Of course it’s a little shabby, but nothing a little sprucin’ can’t fix.” Dorothy rambled on, and Harley’s patience thinned.

Harley let out an exasperated sigh, “What’s your proposal again?”

Another nod, “Right. Well, what I’m gettin’ at is that I think the three of us should head to Newfoundland and find ourselves a fresh start.” When Harley offered a blank stare and didn’t react, Dorothy took a breath. “I know about yer husband. Ya need to be around family now, Harleen. Newfoundland can offer that.”

It was a preposterous idea but the Aunt’s logic struck a chord with Harley. She really did need familiar faces around when all that was left in her heart was a deep sense of abandonment and betrayal.

Harley nodded, “Yeah, let’s go.”


	3. Chapter 3

Harley called her boss the next day.

“Yeah, I know Harvey. I didn’t want to do this either.” The receiver bellowed out a dramatic deep voice.

“Just something came up. I can’t keep working for you.”

She pinched her nose and squeezed her eyes shut, “Jesus Christ, Harv! Fucking sue me for not telling you my husband was killed in a car crash and my parents died the next day! That’s what’s been ‘up’!

Harley surprised herself with the outburst.

Just then Lucy came stomping into the kitchen and Harley’s voice lowered, but continued to seeth into the phone, “Just have my last week’s pay cheque ready at the office at three. You won’t be able to get a hold of me after that,” Harley slammed the phone back into place, effectively ending any contact she’ll ever have with her slimey, nosy boss.

“But I don’t wanna go anywhere! When’s daddy coming? He won’t let you take me!” Lucy pouted, her cheeks blushing with anger as she continued stomping around.

Barely able to face her daughter out of growing guilt, she caught the Aunt’s gaze, who was shaking her head.

Harley crouched down to Lucy’s level, “Luce, please. Can you grab your doll? I promise we’ll stop for sundaes on the way.”

And with that Lucy sulked back to her room.

“You can’t keep on coddlin’ her like that. A child mustn’t live with her head buried in sand. It'll do more harm than good if you don’t just break it to her,” Dorothy shot at her.

Harley sighed, knowing she was right but feeling like the world’s biggest failure of a mother.

\---

Lucy was asleep in the backseat of the stationwagon. Harley had been driving for what felt like twelve hours while the Aunt was mostly silent.

“Quinzel’s Point. You’ll see. It’s atop of the cliff overlookin’ Killick-Shaw. That’s where most folks work. Generations of Quinzels lived there. O’course these days most of ‘em fled to the city looking for fancier gigs. But the locals, they’ll know ya, Harleen. I’m sure yer name can even get ya some employment. Have ya thought what ya might do once we get there?”

Both of Harley’s hands kept a leisure grip on the large steering wheel, her eyes dead on the road. “I don’t know. I guess I don’t have too many skills to offer. I almost got through my undergrad in psychology but I dropped out before I could finish. I’ve been working as a secretary at the Jersey Tribune soon after Lucy was born.”

Dorothy’s eyes peered through the windshield into the cold winter night. Flurries were whipping about at increasing speeds and the road sunk into darkness as they headed further northeast.

“Those are some skills, I’d say. A young gal such as yerself with almost a full degree in hand and experience at a city paper? I’m sure it’s enough to nab a reporter’s post at the old Galloping Gull in Killick-Shaw. Have faith in yerself, Harleen.”

Faith was nowhere on the spectrum of how Harleen was currently feeling about herself.

\---

After pulling over to a dingy motel somewhere in eastern Quebec to retire for the night, the trio were on the road bright and early the next morning. Close to nightfall, the station wagon reached a view of the Gulf of the Saint-Lawrence.

The Aunt stepped out of the car to pay for three ferry tickets and an additional fee for driving the station wagon onto the boat. In the meantime, Lucy and Harley got out of the vehicle after Harley parked it into the vehicle cue.

Harley looked around and saw mostly tourists in line, catching some Newfoundlander accents in the mix as well. The water was steady but its breeze sent a shiver down her spine and seeped into her bones. Newfoundlander or not, Harley didn’t know if she’d ever get used to Canadian winters.

“Luce, don’t go too far. The ferry is docking soon!” Harley called out to the girl, who was happily skipping towards the pebbled shore and hopping over drift wood that beached itself on the vast bed of rocks.

The Aunt made her way to Harley’s side, “Smell that?” she asked and Harley inhaled, sensing crisp salt air nearby and Dorothy looked on at Lucy, “That’s the iodine. It’s good for her lungs. I tell ya, any allergies she might have will be gone in a few months. Better than that disgusting pollution ya Yanks call oxygen down in Gotham s’for sure.”

Harley had to smile at that. She always wanted to give Lucy a childhood surrounded by nature. Maybe she could do something good for her daughter after all.

\---

The station wagon trudged through snowy roads of a coastal town. Smoke was billowing out of scattered stone houses and down the valley, there was a concentration of buildings near the harbour.

Harley drove slowly, not knowing how equipped the car’s tires were for the icy winding roads. She guided them down a snowy knoll when she caught sight of a woman bundled up in a thick coat out of what looked like sheep skin. Harley could tell bundled underneath all those layers, was a slim frame, and she noted the woman walked with grace. In contrast, her curly red hair whipped about in the winter breeze. She couldn’t manage to make out her face through her wild red mane, and she drove on.

The Aunt directed them to a steep escarpment on the other side of the village. There, they were met with a boarded up house, made out of sturdy logs, but looking in need of some TLC. Dorothy pointed, “There she is! Quinzel’s Point. Chimney should be workin’ just fine. I can get the fireplace going and Lucy, you can help yer ma chop up some vegetables for a hearty stew.”

Lucy whined, “But I want to look for mermaids! Mommy do I have to?”

Harley parked the car, and turned to face the girl in the backseat, “Yeah, Luce. I told you earlier, you have to start listening to your Aunt Dorothy. She’s also in charge now. We can look for mermaids after supper.”

Once the three Quinzels were fed, the Aunt turned on the radio and collapsed into an old chair by the fireplace. Lucy played with her dolls next to Dorothy and Harley put together a makeshift bed out of sheepskins, cowhide and fleece the Aunt dutifully packed for the move.

With an armful of Lucy, Harley fell into a deep sleep listening to the violent ocean flurries beating against the solid wooden home. Her last thoughts were with a prayer that tomorrow would be a brighter day.

\----

The next morning, the Aunt took Lucy to school. Harley wondered how she could enrol her daughter so soon, but Dorothy dismissed her concerns explaining there really was just one school house in all of Killick-Shaw “atop of knoll by Doyle’s Point” and that "there really was no need for that kind of bureaucracy in Newfoundland, Harley."

Harley just laughed and realized she might have to loosen up, get on pace with coastal living and leave the rat race of New Jersey and Gotham behind.

Instead, she decided to take up the Aunt’s suggestion and make her way to the Galloping Gull in hopes they’ll need an extra hand in exchange for a steady wage.

The Galloping Gull wasn’t hard to spot. It was smack dab in the downtown of Killick-Shaw. It was a modest building, its wooden sides bleached with white paint and a wooden blade sign jutted out informing Harley that this was in fact the quaint local paper.

When she stepped inside, an inquisitive set of eyes belonging to a middle aged man appraised her face, “Ian just stepped out for lunch if you’re looking to post some ads. You’ll have to wait a while, or come back after 1.”

Harley flashed her friendliest smile, the kind toddlers and puppies fawned over and shook her head. “Oh no, I’m not a merchant. I was hoping to talk to the editor? Or sales manager? Or anyone who’s in charge?”

The man puffed out his chest, obviously trying to impress his importance onto Harley, “Name’s George Doyle. What can I help you with?”

Just then a woman in her mid-thirties with jet black hair and violet eyes strutted towards the front desk. She looked to George, a manicured eyebrow raised at him and turned to Harley, looking her up and down.

“And who might you be?” the woman directed at Harley in a low, warm and authoritative voice that had Harley pegging her as a TV or radio anchor.

George wrung his hands and his chest deflated at the sight of her, “Jesus Murphy, Lois! I didn’t know you came back from your interview. I was just trying to make myself useful.”

The woman didn’t chance another glance at George and waited for Harley to answer her.

“I’m Harleen Quinzel. I just moved here with my daughter and I was hoping to lend your paper a hand,” Harley managed to keep the dazzling smile on her face under the woman’s scrutinizing eyes.

George’s voice piped up from the side of the women, “A Quinzel? Lord, we haven’t seen the lot of ya in years. You must be Stewart’s gal.”

Harley nodded his way, “He’s my dad.” Purposefully using present tense when she noticed this was the kind of town where everyone knew everyone’s business and not having any energy to explain how her father’s life took a tragic turn.

“You’ll have to give him my regards. Stu and I used to play shinny as boys when his father brought him out here to visit.”

Harley smiled politely at the man, “Will do.”

She looked over at Lois who held a finger under her chin and another arm draped over her torso, not looking away from Harley.

“Ms. Quinzel. Please come this way into my office.”

Closing the door, Lois motioned for Harley to sit in the chair across from her desk.

“I take it you have roots here then?”

Harley nodded, “Yes ma’am. I mean I’ve never been here before but my pa would tell me all about Newfoundland when I was growing up.”

“I see. Well I am a little short-staffed. What’s your professional background, Harleen?”

“Oh me? I uh.. I was just a few credits short of earning my psychology degree at Gotham U. But I think the most relevant experience I have was my last job. I was the front desk secretary at The Jersey Tribune for the last five years. I learned a lot of tricks of the trade there. It wasn’t really my responsibility, but I kept track of all the local newsmakers and even got some of my own sources, which really helped the beat reporters,” Harley rambled on hopefully, when Lois interrupted her.

“A psych student, eh? That’s actually the most relevant skill you have. I bet you can make people cry, can’t you? Make them pour their hearts out to you, confide in you?” Lois was now leaning towards Harley with growing interest.

“Uhh, yeah. I mean, I don’t like making people cry. I’d much rather make them feel good about themselves. Although it’s always healthy to accept difficult emotions and not suppress them, but I don’t think they’re something to chew on.”

That single eyebrow raised again and Lois shrugged, “Listen, darling. If it bleeds it leads. You want to be in the newspaper business, you have to weave a good tale. Tears, tragedy, drama -- that’s what sells a paper. That’s what’s most gripping.”

Her slim hand pushed a business card across the desk, in Harley’s direction. “If you can manage to get behind that, I could use you. Give me a call when you decide.”

Harley looked at the card: Lois Lane. Editor of the Galloping Gull. Harley’s eyes bugged out, instantly recognizing the name in the numerous bylines she read in the Daily Planet while she was killing time at the Tribune.

She remembered Lois’ story. It made national headlines: “Star reporter accuses media mogul of sexual abuse”

“So that’s why she’s here,” Harley thought to herself. Harvey Dent was right, everyone’s got a story.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harley eases into her second act. She also meets a certain redhead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full disclosure: I've never been to Newfoundland but this story is turning into a love letter to Newfoundland. Let me know what you think! I'm open to opinions, insights, reactions and even constructive criticism. Happy reading!

Harley didn’t know if she could do this job.

It was either this or become a fisherman. Or fisherwoman? Either way she didn’t think she could hold out in the middle of frigid waters, hauling massive catches of fish onto a boat. Swallowing her doubt, Harley called Lois and told her she’d like to become the Galloping Gull’s newest reporter.

“Welcome aboard! I’ll make a reporter out of you yet, Quinzel,” was Lois’ surprisingly enthusiastic response.The veteran journalist was convinced she had enough makeup for the job and casually told Harley to use the same curiosity she had for people that gave her aspirations for psychology and apply it to reporting.

“I guess it’s not that different,” Harley thought. Her heart swelling with pride at Lois’ words and the confidence she placed in her.

\---

“Your grammar’s good and you can spell just fine. But I’m sorry, Harleen. This is just dry.”

Harley pursed her lips at the criticism and looked down to her lap. She’d been trying to piece together a story Lois assigned about donation shortages at the local food bank.

“These people aren’t your case studies, so stop writing them like that. Where’s the heartbeat? What’s their raison d'être?" Lois spoke animatedly with her hands.

She paused when she saw Harley still staring down, looking a little defeated. Letting out a sigh, Lois pulled up a chair next to Harley’s desk.

“Here, look at this,” she placed a photo of a boat trudging out to sea into what looked like a violent storm looming on the horizon. “O’Connor shot this two weeks ago. Take me back to that day. What’s your headline?”

Harley pushed a few strands of her blonde bob behind her ear and blue eyes studied the photo. “Horizon fills with dark clouds,” she said unsurely.

Lois shook her head, “No. ‘Imminent storm threatens village’ “

Harley’s eyebrows furrowed, “But what if no storm ever came?”

“Village spared from deadly storm,” the raven haired woman barely missed a beat.

Harley chuckled and Lois smiled at her, “Yeah?”

The blonde nodded back, “Yeah. I’ll keep working on it.”

“Good. I think that’s enough for today. I’ll leave you with a list of local emergency officials. Memorize their names and titles like your life depends on it. Because your job will. Here’s a phone book for the county. Now go home to your daughter.”

Harley saluted her editor, “Yes ma’am!” and hopped away merrily from her typewriter.

A chuckling Lois watched the chiming door close after Harley on her way out.

\---

Harley chose to walk to the schoolhouse that day and surprise Lucy. Lois advised the best way for her to get to know the area was to cover it by foot. “There’s nothing quite like good old fashioned journalistic legwork to get those story ideas rolling,” the editor informed her.

She passed by the docks and small businesses, studying characters and exchanges. There was a man unloading skids from a truck. A woman wearing a flour-covered apron stepped out of a bakery and shook off the white powder from herself. She caught Harley’s curious gaze, and smiled.

“Afternoon.”

Harley immediately smiled back, “Smells delicious in there!”

She was starting to see that famous Newfoundlander friendliness she’s always heard about. It was so different from Gotham where everyone had a dark cloud hanging over their heads and tried their best to avoid eye contact on the street. She always felt like such an outsider there for wanting to get to know people and for her general sunny disposition. It struck her that maybe the Aunt was right, maybe she really was a Newfoundlander after all.

Hiking up to the schoolhouse, Harley saw young mothers and a few fathers trying to herd their children to go home. At the top of the schoolhouse steps there was a tall red haired woman waving goodbye to children.

“Mommy!” Lucy suddenly appeared from a group of children and bolted into her mother’s legs.

“Hey Peanut! How was your day? Surprised to see me?”

Lucy looked up with her doe eyes and nodded enthusiastically.

The red haired woman approached the pair and Harley recognized her figure as the one that caught her eye when she first pulled the station wagon into Killick-Shaw.

“You must be Ms. Quinzel,” she offered Harley her hand and the blonde noticed an unmistakable Newfoundlander accent, but it was more subtle than that of the other locals in her velvety rich voice.

Harley shook it and smiled, “Sure am. But please, call me Harleen. Or Harley. Whichever really.”

The woman nodded and gave her a small smile, “And the parents call me Pamela. Ms. Isley for the children, of course.” The woman who confirmed herself as Lucy’s teacher looked down at the little girl.

“I hope she wasn’t too much trouble.”

“Not at all, she’s been a pleasure. She’s getting along well with the other children and is making friends,” Pamela knelt down to Lucy’s eye-level, tilting her to the side in search of the girl’s eyes.

At that Lucy immediately ran behind Harley’s legs, and peered at Pamela through them with a blush.

Harley chuckled a little. Lucy was normally a very outgoing and friendly child. The sudden shyness was quite out of character for her. It was clear to Harley that Lucy was smitten with her new teacher. And Harley couldn’t blame her. Pamela reminded her of those statuesque women on the covers of the Vogue magazines she used to read.

Framed by thick red hair, were a pair of large feline-shaped green eyes, with thick long lashes to match. Her nose was sharp and slim. Her high cheekbones looked carved by God himself and her lips were evenly full and bow-shaped.

“I’m sorry about that. Lucy’s usually so friendly and chatty.” Harley ran her hand over one of the little girl’s short pigtails. “Luce, can you say bye to Ms. Isley?”

In the littlest voice, Lucy managed to meet Pamela’s gaze and squeaked out, “Goodbye.”

For the first time, Harley saw Pamela burst into an open-mouthed smile and her eyes lit up at the child. “It’s really quite alright. I’m sure there’s been many new faces recently for the little miss. She’ll settle in soon enough.”

Pamela stood at full height and her face was serious again.

“But she does have some catching up to do. I recommend reading to her often and going over the alphabet. Are you at home with her most of the time?”

Harley felt that pang of guilt come back, “No. It’s just me, Lucy and my aunt for now. I just picked up a reporting job with the Galloping Gull, so I’m there most hours. We just moved here from New Jersey last week.”

“Hmm, yes. A big move like that can be overwhelming for such a young child. She’s likely still processing everything and may go through some big emotions. It can lead to outbursts. She needs as much stability now as possible and the guidance of familiar adults. Hang in there, Harleen and let me know how you make out.”

Pamela’s eyes softened with sympathy.

“Thank you,” Harley was grateful she’s so far been met with understanding women who knew the difficulties of single-handedly raising a kid.

“I’ll do my best to pick her up more often. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you soon.”

Ms. Isley smiled, “I’m sure you will. I’ll see you tomorrow, Lucy.” She peered down and gave a small wave to the girl.

On the peaceful walk home, Harley found herself hopeful that she really would get to see Pamela again soon. She seemed like a kind woman, a strong one and Harley was really missing her female friends back home.

\---

“Can I go to Mary’s birthday party?” Lucy asked Harley hopefully.

“Who’s Mary?” Harley said out loud.

“She's the Fitzpatrick lass. I knew Dennis, Mary’s father, when he was a lad. He’s a fisherman now and his wife, Sarah works in the bookstore downtown. Which of course, during the winter when the tourists aren’t around, is closed. So Sarah stays at home with the children. Good people, they are”, the Aunt explained.

“Ok, maybe. But I still need to meet her parents, Lucy,” Harley told her daughter as she finished cleaning up the last of the dishes.

Wiping her hands dry, Harley pulled out Lucy’s schoolbook. “Okay, Luce. You heard Ms. Isley. We should do some reading to get you caught up.”

“Don’t wanna,” the girl shook her head.

Harley’s voice grew more stern, “That wasn’t a question, Lucy. We’re not on vacation, it’s business as usual. Which includes school.”

“I said I don’t wanna!” Lucy huffed. “Why are you being mean? Daddy was never mean to me. He wouldn’t make me. Where’s daddy? I want him here!” her little foot stomped the ground.

Harley pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration, “There’s that attitude Pamela warned me about,” she thought.

The Aunt fixed Harley with a pointed stare and her chest filled with guilt, frustration and anger at the older woman’s judgement.

Lucy started crying and something in Harley snapped. “Because he isn’t here! He’s never going to be here, okay?! He went away and he’s not coming back!” An image of Jack’s face appeared behind Harley’s eyes and a sob tore through throat at the memory of her husband’s abandonment.

“What do you mean?! Where’s daddy? I want daddy!” Lucy’s raised voice met her mother’s.

Harley couldn’t look at her daughter, “I mean he left us! He won’t come back and now he’s dead!”

Harley’s body shook. That wasn’t how she wanted to tell her daughter. She wanted to protect her from it all. It was one of the reasons she took up the Aunt’s offer to move to the Atlantic coast. How was she supposed to explain to Lucy that in the end, Jack never cared? That he was never a real father?

“I hate you!” Lucy screamed. And in that moment, Harley hated herself too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my head, Margot Robbie reprises her role as Harley in this AU version. The Aunt is played by Judy Dench, as she is in the film. And Bridget Regan plays the Pamela Isley/Poison Ivy we deserve. You can't change my mind about that. :P


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aunt Dorothy goes on a business trip, forcing Harley and Pam to interact. With Lucy in tow, the two bond some more. Here's some fluff to make up for the torture I put Harley through. The first few chapters may not seem like it, but I really do love these ladies. Happy reading! xx

It had been a little over a week since Harley broke the news to Lucy about Jack’s death. Harley buried herself in work and the Aunt acted as a buffer between the pair at suppertime. In the meantime, Lucy spent a lot of time at Mary Fitzpatrick’s house.The family really was just as kind and helpful as the Aunt described. Sarah and Dennis welcomed Lucy into their home and plainly told Harley they enjoyed a full house and Lucy was always welcome.

On one particular night, when the sky was littered with stars over the Atlantic and the moonlight bounced off of the snow-covered village, illuminating it, the Quinzels sat quietly together over a warm meal.

“I’ll be headin’ to St. John’s in a few days for business,” the Aunt informed Harley, breaking the silence.

Harley blinked out of her reverie and looked to the older woman, “I don’t think I ever asked you what you do for work.”

“I’m in the upholstery business. Mostly for boats and whatnot. The feds put out request for proposals to build new Coast Guard ships down at St. John’s. I was awarded one of the contracts so I gotta go over to talk to their people and pick up some supplies.”

“How long will you be gone?” Harley asked.

“No more than two weeks. Should be enough time for you to patch things up with Lucy,” Dorothy interjected.

The Aunt wasn’t quite someone Harley felt she could spill her emotions out too. She was a very old school, stiff-upper-lip type of woman. Still, she made her opinion be known that Harley and Lucy had to make amends and process what they left behind in New Jersey.

Harley looked over at her daughter, who excused herself from dinner and was playing with her doll by the fireplace, seemingly not having heard her guardians speaking about her.

Ignoring the Aunt’s unsolicited advice, Harley replied, “I’ll make arrangements with Lois to be able to walk Lucy to school.”

\---

“Shit!” Harley muttered when she looked up at the clock from her typewriter and saw the time.

She still had to finish the article she was hacking away at and drop it on Lois’ desk by “4:55 sharp, Quinzel. Or I’ll have your head,” Harley believed Lois’ exact instructions were. And she believed the editor. While Lois was proving to be a compassionate mentor, she was an equally demanding boss.

Well, Harley still had two paragraphs left to go and some of her own editing to complete before she was able to submit the story and the clock had already struck 3 pm. Meaning she had to call the schoolhouse to inform Pamela she’d be late picking up Lucy.

After the quick phone call and considerable focus, Harley banged out the article and unceremoniously plopped it on Lois’ vacant desk.

By the time Harley reached the schoolhouse, she noticed all the parents had already left with their children. She opened the door to the building and saw Pamela writing at her teacher’s desk and Lucy lost in play on a plush carpet with building blocks.

Pamela lifted her head in Harley’s direction at the sound of her shoes clacking on the hardwood floor of the classroom.

“Sorry! I’m so sorry! I had this town council piece due by the end of the day and then some breaking news came in,” Harley speedwalked to the front of the room, catching her breath.

Pamela smiled and kept her eyes on her work, waving a hand.

“It’s fine, Harleen. I had some lesson planning to do for the older kids anyway.”

Harley inwardly winced when Lucy didn’t come barrelling towards her and hoped Pamela didn’t catch on to the tension between them.

Pamela tore her attention away from her work and stood. Harley noticed the forest green turtleneck she wore that matched her eyes. A pair of tailored tweed slacks clung to her long legs, completing the redhead’s outfit.

“I didn’t get the chance to do much grocery shopping this week so I was just about to head to Snug Harbour for dinner. Would you two care to join?”

Pleasantly surprised by the invite, Harley said, “Oh, um sure. I mean, I don’t want to interrupt your night or anything.”

Pamela began packing her things and clearing her desk, “You’re not. I was going to do takeout but I could use a bit of a night out.”

“Ohh, so we’re gonna have a rager tonight?” Harley joked.

Pamela raised an eyebrow and chuckled, “Is that what you Americans call it?”

Harley laughed and shrugged. Her shoulders eased and she uncrossed her arms in relief that she wasn’t bothering the other woman after being late.

She walked over to Lucy, who was still immersed in toys.

“Luce, you must be hungry. Can you grab your things? Ms. Isley invited us out for dinner.”

The girl nodded, her short blonde ponytail bobbed along and she began collecting her things. Harley helped Lucy put on her coat and bundled her up with a scarf, mittens and a woolen hat.

“There! Snug as a bug in a rug. Can’t have you catching a cold out there. Can I have your hand?” Harley asked Lucy, hoping to cheer her up with affection. Lucy grabbed it and quietly followed her mother.

Pamela stood waiting and watched them with a warm smile on her face.

“Shall we, ladies?” she asked playfully.

\---

“I want a burger!” Lucy impatiently announced, clenching a fork and knife in each hand as she sat next to Harley in the restaurant booth.

“Hmm..You may have a hard time coming across one of those, Lucy,” Pamela replied. “Not a lot of cows in these parts of the country. Maybe a squid burger would suffice?”

Lucy made a face, “Yuck!”

“Lucy! That’s not nice. You know it’s not okay to tell people their food is ‘yucky’,” Harley berated her, feeling a little embarrassed by Lucy’s lack of manners. Harley was always strict when it came to that. And through that discipline, Lucy was normally on her best behaviour. She was a polite child, never throwing tantrums in public or refusing to greet the adults she was introduced to.

“Sorry,” Lucy offered Pamela sheepishly, and looked down at her lap with a blush.

“It’s alright, sweetheart. They do take some getting used to.”

Lucy peered across the table in Pamela’s direction.

“Ms. Isley?” Lucy asked.

“Yes?” Pamela’s eyes were busy studying the menu.

“What does a squid look like?”

Pamela put down the menu and looked over at her. “Well they live in the ocean and they have these long tentacles, which help them swim very quickly.”

“Like mermaids?!” Lucy exclaimed excitedly.

Pamela entertained the girl’s imagination. “Like mermaids,” she confirmed. “Come here. Sit next to me and I’ll show you what a squid looks like.”

Lucy squirmed in her seat, blushing under Pamela’s gaze and looked to Harley.

Harley watched the adorable interaction with amusement. “Go on,” she encouraged.

Shuffling out of the booth, Lucy walked to Pamela’s side and climbed up, sitting at the farthest end.

Pamela chuckled and patted the space next to her, “Well, come here. I can’t show you when you’re all the way over there.”

Lucy’s big eyes looked up at Pamela and she dragged her little body across the bench next to her.

“So, what colour is our squid going to be?” Pamela asked.

“Purple,” was Lucy’s very decisive reply.

The redhead fished for a purple crayon from a plastic cup Lucy was supplied with and pulled a tawny sheet of paper from across the booth where the girl previously sat.

To Harley’s surprise, Pamela was quite a talented illustrator. The woman drew the sea creature’s long body and meticulously shaded in disc-shaped suckers along the tentacles.

Lucy was enraptured and she unconsciously scooted closer to the woman, placing her little hand on her arm.

“It looks like a monster,” the girl observed.

“It certainly does,” Pamela agreed. “People who lived a long time ago thought that’s what they were. Some of them can grow very large and sailors back then told stories about giant sea monsters tipping over ships and eating people.”

Lucy gasped, her hand clenching Pamela’s forearm, “Really?”

The woman pulled her gaze away from the drawing and looked to the girl next to her, “Don’t worry, sweetpea.” She wrapped her arm around the child, comforting her. “They don’t actually eat people. They’re more afraid of us.”

Harley watched the entire exchange fondly. Pamela seemed to have all the patience in the world for Lucy. Even after a long day of teaching, the woman continued to entertain and educate her. Harley also noticed how she skillfully diffused Lucy’s shyness somewhat. The girl seemed at ease in Pamela’s arms while she stared at the drawing.

“So Ms. Isley, do you always fraternize with your students’ parents?” Harley teased. One of the blonde’s hands was propping up her chin on the table and she was looking across the booth with a smile. Her other hand draped over the now closed menu.

Pamela continued doodling and held Lucy to her side with the other arm.

She laughed at the question, “Well, when your family has lived here for generations, you find the baker is your father’s friend’s brother. And the mailman’s wife was your former teacher. After all that, any pretense of professional boundaries is lost.”

She looked to Harley with a smirk, “It’s really refreshing you didn’t know me before puberty.”

Harley rolled her eyes playfully, “Pfft...Oh please. I doubt you could be anything but put together. I bet you didn’t even have an awkward phase.”

“Oh I assure you, I did. I was pretty introverted and kept to myself as a child. In this town, everyone knows one another's business. It’s one of the reasons I went out west for school.”

Harley tilted her head to the side, questioningly. “You got your teaching degree that far away? Where did you study?”

Pamela shook her head, only looking up every so often from Lucy and her drawing to meet Harley’s gaze.

“Not education, I studied botany. Teaching came unexpectedly. I did my undergrad, masters and PhD in Seattle.”

“You’re a doctor?” Harley was baffled.

“Technically, I suppose. I don’t do a whole lot with the title. But I admit, I am rather proud of my nursery.”

Harley was fascinated, “How did you end up here then? Teaching?”

Pamela looked across to her with raised eyebrows. An amused smile persisted on her face.

Harley caught herself, “I’m sorry. That sounded so condescending. I didn’t mean it like that. Teaching really is quite honourable. I’m just so curious what brought you back. And getting a doctorate was a dream of mine too. That’s why I asked.”

Pamela shrugged, “This is where I’m from.” And Harley sensed not to press on past that.

“So tell me, Ms. Quinzel. What kind of doctor did you want to be?”

Harley smiled dreamily, “A psychiatrist. People fascinate me and I like them too. I find that because of that, they confide in me a lot. And I’m a good listener. I just like helping people see things from another perspective and making them feel better because of it.”

“All useful traits in the journalism field, I imagine,” Pamela offered.

“That’s what Lois seems to think. Oh sorry, Lois is my editor.”

“Ah yes, Lois Lane. I’ve met her. Another American transplant, right?”

“Yup! A fellow American, that she is.”

“I remember her work from my Seattle days. It’s disgusting how easily a man in power could take down such an accomplished woman,” Pamela scrunched her forehead as she remained focused on her artwork.

But Harley didn’t want to think about awful men. Not when the very mention of them brought Jack to mind. Not when she was enjoying another person’s company in what felt like years. It didn’t seem like the other woman wanted to elaborate any further either.

The trio continued their evening talking, storytelling and bonding over what was eventually a meal. Pamela ordered halibut with a side of green salad, a lobster mac and cheese went to Lucy and Harley folded and ordered the squid burger (she was curious and Pamela’s drawing gave her a sudden craving for calamari).

“Well, I better get that one cleaned up and ready for bed,” Harley nodded in Lucy’s direction.

Lucy’s eyes were closed and her breathing evened out as she remained propped up and pressed against Pamela’s side.

Pamela looked down at the dozing child, sipping her tea carefully not to rouse her.

“Of course. It is a school night after all,” the teacher jokingly chided before a waitress was in their line of sight, cleaning the table adjacent to them.

“Can I get the cheque, please?” Pamela asked the restaurant staffer, who nodded back.

“Oh, no please. You don’t have to pay,” Harley interjected. After Pamela graciously invited them out for dinner and looked after Lucy while she was running late, the blonde didn’t want to place further burdens onto her.

The waitress reappeared and Pamela snatched the bill from her hand.

She grinned back, “I’m the one who invited you out to dinner, so I get to pay. It’s Newfoundlander custom, Harleen.”

Harley gave Pamela a grateful smile, then feigned suspicion, narrowing her eyelids in the other woman’s direction.

“Hmm, I guess I’ll have to take your word for it.”

“You do,” Pamela assented, placing cash on the table.

“But I want to return the favour. I’ve been told I’m a good cook. Maybe you can come over sometime for dinner?” Harley offered. And even though fair is fair and she always strove for retribution in all her relationships, in those few seconds, Harley anxiously awaited Pamela’s response.

Pamela laughed, “Is that so? Well I can’t pass that up. Just let me know when.”

Harley smiled, and let out a breath, “I’ll sort some things out at work and let you know.”

Pamela grinned, “Perfect”.

She slowly moved the arm that Lucy was sleeping on until the girl was pressed against her side again. Her hand gently brushing back the hair on Lucy’s forehead.

Harley got up and stood in their side of the booth as Lucy stirred awake.

“It’s time to go, honey.”

Lucy rubbed her eyes with tiny fists, letting Harley rebundle her up.

When all their coats, scarves and hats were fastened, Harley, Pamela and a sleepy Lucy stepped into the cold night.

Just as Harley took a few steps forward, her right foot slid into a deep lunge, the left not prepared and before she realized what happened, Harley tumbled onto her backside.

The blonde winced, cradling the hand she used to break her fall as she lay on the solid sheet of ice underneath her.

“Mommy!” Lucy yelped, the two rushing to Harley’s side.

Pamela clenched her jaw, gently taking Harley’s injured hand and sliding off her glove.

Holding Harley’s hand in her palm, Pamela knelt next to her, lightly inspecting the oozing gash she received from a blunt shard of ice.

“Jesus,” Pamela exhaled. “Fortunately, you won’t need stitches.”

Harley gulped. Pamela’s face was close to hers, her green eyes fixed on Harley’s hand as her thumb softly traced the wound.

Not knowing if it was from the embarrassment she felt or from Pamela’s radiating body heat, but the blonde suddenly felt hot.

Pamela didn’t look up at Harley’s face to notice the scarlet blush tinting her pale cheeks and said something to heighten Harley’s embarrassment.

“I see you haven’t perfected the Canadian penguin walk,” she said with a chuckle.

Harley was normally not one to be at a loss for words but she suddenly felt like her five-year-old daughter under the teacher’s tender gaze.

“Guess not,” she mumbled, taking back her hand.

With a hand on her elbow, Pamela helped her up.

“I’ll be alright,” Harley managed to meet Pamela’s eyes once more.

She pulled on her glove, dusting off her snow-covered coat and took a few steps back from Pamela.

Pamela’s eyebrows rose in concern for a split second and then her face relaxed back into a friendly smile, maintaining her distance from Harley.

“Thanks for tonight. It’s also been a long time since I’ve had a night out,” Harley offered.

“I only hope it met the ‘rager’ quota for you,” Pamela shot back with a smirk.

“More than!” Harley laughed, feeling tension leave her body, although her hand and backside still throbbed from the fall.

With that, Pamela and Harley said their goodbyes for the night, and the redhead waved a farewell to her student.

\---

Back at Quinzel’s Point, Harley bathed Lucy and buttoned her up in a pair of freshly cleaned pyjamas.

She then rinsed her wound, bandaged it and returned to Lucy’s side in bed.

Noticing Lucy’s eyes were shut, Harley gently pulled a picture book out of Lucy’s grasp.

The girl’s eyes blinked sleepily.

“Mommy?”

“Yes, my love?” Harley tucked her daughter in with a feathered comforter.

“Why did daddy leave?”

Harley took a deep breath to gather her thoughts and in the end, she chose to answer Lucy honestly.

“I don’t know, baby.”

“Is it because I didn’t clean up my toys?”

Harley’s pulse quickened in anger at that. There was no way she’d let Lucy blame herself for Jack’s abandonment.

She took a few moments to rid any hint of frustration in her voice, knowing Lucy needed stability and tenderness.

“No, Luce. Daddy leaving had nothing to do with you. I can promise you that. Sometimes we don’t know why people do the things they do. I’m sorry I can't give you a better answer than that.”

Lucy looked down to her blanketed toes.

Harley scooped the girl in her arms and kissed her temple.

“You know what else I can promise you?” she asked into her daughter’s soft blonde hair.

Lucy shook her head.

“That I won’t ever leave you. That I’ll always love you and that there are so many other people who love you too.”

Lucy’s body relaxed into her mother and that night, Harley rocked her baby to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awww Lucy's cuteness is just writing itself. Brb, gonna go satisfy my own fish n' chips craving now. Hit the kudos tab, subscribe and leave a comment to let me know your thoughts on the story so far! :)

**Author's Note:**

> Geez, poor Harley. But things will start looking up for her soon! This story is angst heavy in the beginning and fluff will ensue in later chapters.


End file.
